The Many X Seasons X Of The Oak - Derw's Story
by Helios.J.Mears
Summary: A mother's love is important. Important enough that one person is willing to risk their life to find a way to save theirs. Derw's mother was their life. Now, after eighteen years of living they begin a journey that will change everything, both for themselves, and the people they meet along the way. After all, Their spring may be over, but Summer? It's only just begun.


**A/N: Well, after a long, long absence, I've finally decided to show my face again. Well, figuratively, anyway. First thing is, I'm going to keep this one short. My account is a mess, and I'm clearing it up. Hyrule Reborn is being discontinued, and Façade, while likely to see a rework at some point, is currently on a semi-permanent hiatus until I can get my priorities sorted out. The details will be on my profile as soon as I get this published, since old readers deserve to know what's going on. That is all.**

 **Now, as for this story, I'm considering it a blank slate. A fresh start. I'm older and more mature now than I was a year or two ago, and, (hopefully), now know how to actually write to a half decent standard. I will not lie; I am ashamed of myself for my old fics. Again, check my profile for details. Hunter X Hunter is a story I hold very close to my heart. I love it dearly, and the sheer amount of potential for fanfiction it creates astounds me. The concept for this particular fic, despite my having known the series for a good year, now, is still fairly new, and, I hope, a fresh one. I am well aware of the overused tropes on this site; especially those associated with this fandom. Hopefully, you will find it a refreshing look at a worn-out idea.**

 **If you want to imagine this fic with openings and endings,** ** _Owner of a lonely heart_** **by Yes is the op., and play** ** _Hybrid Rainbow_** **by The Pillows as the ending.**

 **So, with all that said, on with the fic!**

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter and all affiliated characters are owned by Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha Inc., Studio Madhouse and Funimation. I do not make any money from this. If I did, why would I be wasting my time posting it here?_**

 **xXxXx**

It was dawn. An overcast, unspectacular dawn, to boot. And yet, it was the most beautiful she'd ever seen. In her eyes, every gloomy cloud shone like silver over the grey-tinted land, and each green blade of grass shimmered with crisp morning dew. The sun, invisible as it was, slowly began to cast its light over the world, chasing away the darkness that had dominated it only minutes before.

In her arms was a baby, no more than a day old. It was silent as the grave; its slow breathing the only indication of life. It was wrapped tightly in a threadbare old purple blanket, covered in so many patches of various shades that the original hue was all but indiscernible. It wasn't a particularly amazing baby, either. Small, underweight and overall unremarkable, with a thin layer of pale green hair on its tiny head. It shifted in its sleep, and its mother held it closer to her chest, as if to touch it to her heart. To her, it was perfect.

"Little Derw."

On the horizon, a single cloud moved aside and gave way to the rising Sun behind.

Derw opened their tiny eyes and smiled.

 **xXxXx**

It was a morning like any other. Quiet, peaceful and pure. Above the distant horizon, the sun hovered, dimmed by a thick mist rolling in from the nearby lake and smiling gently down on the land below. A small cottage stood on a hill, overlooking the scene. Ramshackle and old, it lay at an angle, appearing in danger of falling down. It was built from stone, unrendered and uneven, held together with old mortar that had been reapplied innumerable times over its many years. It had four visible windows on the south facing side which currently overlooked the sea; two on each floor, and a large red door, covered by a canopy, between the two lower windows, closer to one than the other. At one end of the rectangular building's long edge was a tall chimney, billowing smoke that caught in the breeze and left soot on the mismatched slate tiles of the roof, which had buckled a little over the years, until its once-straight slope had become a soft curve. On the door's canopy, built of red clay tiles that had weathered with age, sat a lopsided bird's nest, sloping to one side in-line with the building's slant. Within, a mother robin sat, incubating a small clutch of eggs.

In front of the house was a small stone deck, granite slabs smoothed and softened by time until they almost shone in the gentle sunlight. Off to one side, it tapered off into a small path that led to a driveway, where an old-fashioned gypsy caravan sat. On the deck itself, however, was an assortment of troughs and planters, filled with flowers, fruits and vegetables. Below the wider of the two ground floor windows was a small wooden deckchair, with old, faded wood, and fabric that had been bleached by the passing of days. In it sat a small woman, no older than twenty-five, a book in one hand and a wide-brimmed leather sunhat covering her face. Locks of long red hair hung flared around the chair's back, and the loose hems of her pale brown trousers fluttered softly in the cool embrace of the morning breeze. An out-of-place men's cotton shirt covered her upper body, covered by a loose woollen cardigan, currently unbuttoned, and knitted from simple, undyed sheep's wool. Draped around her shoulders was a well-worn scarf, clearly older than its wearer. Woven from an unidentifiable material, its purple, blue and orange stripes glistened oddly in the pale light, and it was long enough that both ends pooled on the ground on either side of her. The peaceful rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was sleeping, but she still seemed to remain alert, as though ready to tense at the slightest provocation.

A few yards away, down a small set of shallow slate steps, was a moderately large garden, roughly 35 metres across. Divided by haphazard and snaky gravel paths, the raised beds and hedgerows formed elaborate, abstract patterns. Bordered on all sides by bushes and trees of various heights and varieties, the circular space was all but untouched by the vicious winds that often blew in from the north. In the centre of the garden was a large, circular lawn, covered with a carpet of fresh-cut grass. At its centre was a tall oak tree. Its trunk, however- barely two-thirds of a metre thick -indicated its relative youth. Lying peacefully against the trunk was a young child of five, their eyes lidded, and their breaths slow and deep. Although their position made it hard to pinpoint, they appeared to be far above the average height for a person of that age- five feet tall at least. Their long, pale green hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that extended past their back and fell limply to the ground. One long, curved bang of hair fell over one eye, reaching down to their chin and curling at the end, while a few loose strands dangled on the other side of their face. Their face, still young, was round, and held hints of fast-receding puppy fat, revealing the beginnings of a smooth, angular jawline and soft cheekbones, tapering down to a pointed chin. A narrow, aquiline nose protruded from their face, which, when they were awake, would draw attention to their eyes. They dressed very simply, wearing a pair of dark red skorts that came down to the middle of their thigh, and a white cotton long-sleeved undershirt covered by a short purple denim cardigan, with sleeves that stopped at the elbow, came down to the middle of their waist, and was currently unbuttoned.

"Derw!"

The shout woke them with a start, bright eyes- Red, green, purple, white, and patterned like tartan -shooting open abruptly.

"Come back to the house, Derw, the mist's coming in!" Their mother's voice was clear and smooth, sounding almost like low birdsong as it hovered in the morning air. Derw smiled, leaping to their feet, (which were, incidentally, bare), and turning to hug the old oak before rushing up the steps and into the house.

The mist, thick and silver, swept swiftly over the land, writhing like some kind of primordial mass, tendrils of thick smog flitting around, feeling the air. Derw's mother folded her chair in a single, flowing movement, before gravitating the robin's nest into her hand. The bird paid her no mind; it was used to it by now. As the mist verged over the garden boundary, an unfortunate rabbit was caught in the opaque mass. It turned instantly to vapour, holding shape for a moment with a pained expression on its face, before turning tail and dissipating into the cloud. A male robin shot through the open door like a bullet, and it slammed closed behind it, just as the mist breached the patio. It pulsed, almost sadly, as vague silhouettes of figures- some people, some animals, and some entirely indistinguishable -moved around in its depths.

If one were to listen closely, a million voices could be heard from within, clashing and merging into one enormous cloud of emotion.

But no one heard. No one except Derw and their mother. They smiled at each other, sitting in silence in two opposing armchairs, as the mist flowed by around them.

 **xXxXx**

It was noon, harsh sunlight beating down onto the grass as Derw leant up against the tree. The mist hadn't come in as often as it used to over the past ten years, and it saddened them greatly. A green-bound book sat in their lap, spine well-worn; their mother had given it to them only last week, on their fifteenth birthday, and they had sworn to treasure it. The oak tree behind them had grown a little in the time that had elapsed since that day when the mist grew shy, its trunk thicker, and its branches reaching ever higher and wider, shielding them from the midday sun. Derw's place, however, was special. The trunk's base had grown to be very wide over the years Derw had known it, and it had grown around them, creating an indentation that grew to fit them perfectly. It was comforting; as though their closest companion was reaching out to embrace them.

They had grown, too, now standing at 9 feet exactly. Their hair had retained its pale green shade, and now fell to their ankles in its wavy ponytail. Its growth had slowed over the years, although recently it had shown signs of speeding up again. Derw had smiled at that. Their outfit remained, for the most part, unchanged; it had simply been upsized to fit them as they aged. As the years had passed, they'd shed their puppy fat, exposing a lean, almost lanky physique. Their shoulders had broadened, but so too had their hips, leaving them with a strangely narrow waist, and a highly androgynous figure, and well-toned muscle had developed over their form from years of lifting heavy objects around their garden. Their face had lengthened, having developed a strong, yet angular jawline. Soft cheekbones and their ever-noticeable nose helped to draw even more attention to their slightly sunken tartan eyes, framed by heavy eyebrows and a large forehead. It had an almost ageless quality, with small smile-lines prominent around thin lips. Long, slender fingers tucked their single, long bang behind their ear, before turning a page in their book, letting out a small sigh.

Soon, the smell of soup wafted into the well-kept garden. Lunch would be ready soon. They smiled. Their mother was an excellent cook. Snapping the book closed, they turned to hug the Oak, whispering a heartfelt goodbye, before meandering through the garden's paths, occasionally picking up a can and watering the plants. Stopping for a moment, a thoughtful expression formed on their face, and they knealt down to pick a dark purple rose from a bush that they'd bred, long ago. Smiling, they tucked it into the pocket of their cardigan. They would give it to Mother, they decided with a broad grin. Finally, they climbed the steps onto the patio and walked into the house, before making their way into the kitchen, retrieving the rose and wrapping their arms around their mother, bending over to lean their head on her hair. She laughed,

"Hello, Derw. I was about to call." Derw released her, and gave her the rose.

"I picked this for you. I know you like them." Their voice was a cool, deep Alto, almost Tenor, echoing in the small kitchen. She smiled, pulling off the thorns and tucking it behind her ear.

"Thank you. It's lovely." Derw blushed, fiddling shyly with a few long locks of hair.

"I'm glad. The soup looks good." Their mother laughed.

"I should certainly hope so! I spent long enough making it." She chastised good-naturedly. She ladled the soup into two old china bowls, before handing one to Derw, who accepted it gratefully. They made their way to the living room and began eating.

When they were done, Derw took on a hopeful expression. Their mother sighed, with mirth in their eyes.

"Yes, Derw, I saved you some. They're in the Pantry." Derw was gone before she'd finished, bursting into the aforementioned room enthusiastically. What greeted them was nothing short of _heavenly._ A bowl full of fresh pears.

When, several hours later, looking rather dishevelled and dressed only in an unbuttoned shirt and pyjama bottoms, with her hair sticking up at odd angles, Derw's mother walked into the Pantry to fetch some potatoes, she laughed the loudest she had that day. The bowl, that had formerly held upwards of thirty pears, was empty.

Derw had only been in there for seven minutes.

Well, at least it explained how _vigorous_ they had been.

 **xXxXx**

It was a clear, perfect evening, and yet, to Derw, as they watered the blooming roses, it was the dreariest they'd ever seen. The sun sank slowly over the horizon, casting deep purple shadows over the sky's sparse clouds, fading into red and orange as one looked further towards it. Once, it would have been an awe-inspiring scene to them. But today, it was nothing more than a taunt. Their hair, usually braided, was loose, and had been wrapped several times around their neck to stop it from trailing on the ground behind them. Raw, red tear tracks ran down their cheeks, marring their otherwise unblemished face. They were wearing only pyjamas, now stained with dirt. With a deep sigh, the now-eighteen-year-old stood up to their full 12 feet and turned back towards the house. The old nest on the porch was empty; The robins had abandoned it only last week.

Inside was a doctor; the only one for miles. That was the problem with living so far away from society; one never noticed a medical problem until it was too far along to do anything. Now, lying in her bed, barely able to move, was their mother.

It had caught them both by surprise. She'd been going about her business as though there was nothing wrong, when, suddenly, she'd just collapsed, a burning fever overtaking her. Derw had hitched up the caravan and ridden out to the nearest town as quickly as they could, but in the two days they'd been gone, her condition had only worsened. Her thin, emaciated body bore almost no resemblance to the strong, independent Hunter that they'd loved all their life.

For a long time, they simply stared up at her window, the hope draining from their eyes, until, finally, the door opened. Out of it walked a short, sombre-faced man in a brown coat and a dark green bowler hat. In his hand was a large, heavy-looking bag.

"I've done everything I can, but I'm afraid that she's going on borrowed time. I'd say she has a year left, at most. If you'd found out sooner, I might have been able to do more, but as things are…"

Derw refused to meet his eyes, staring hard at the ground as though it were their sworn enemy.

"Don't worry. She's tougher than she looks. It's not your problem. You can go now." Eyes still nailed to the ground, Derw wandered over to the oak, hugging it tightly, tears streaming from their eyes. Then, nodding quietly, as if listening to a voice no one else could hear, they sat down in their special place and wept.

As the doctor left in his own cart, he heard a soul-rending wail that echoed through the surrounding mountains. As he rode away, a thick mist burst from Lake Requis' surface, swirling around the small hill upon which the old house sat.

For once, its haunting shrieks could be heard by all.

 **xXxXx**

It was a cold, misty morning over the bay. At the dock sat a moderately large Carrack named _Kaijinmaru._ A few people were milling around the small port town, but most of them were concentrated on the ship at such an early hour. Most looked singularly uninteresting, but amongst them was a thin, androgynous and absurdly tall person in a wide, white, floppy-brimmed fedora and a full-length, high-collared black leather trench coat, covered in pockets. Their flared, brown trousers billowed in the light breeze. Dangling from the top of their head was a long, pale green and rope-like ponytail. It was around two inches thick, and tightly wound. Every few inches along its length were small, straight shafts of oak. It wound around them, splitting off before re-joining underneath them, decreasing its length. At its end, which hung above their ankles, was a large, spherical knot, roughly eight inches in diameter, wrapped around two wooden shafts, arranged in a cross. At each of their tips, a leaf could be seen. Beneath their coat was their one, consistent piece of clothing; their purple denim cardigan, now coming down only to the bottom of their ribcage, with the same short sleeves. Its small, brass buttons were currently closed over a dark red, tunic-like ruffle shirt. Its waist was held tight by a simple, beige leather belt, and the remaining few inches of cotton flapped in time with the hems of their trousers. A large, purple satchel, almost bursting at the seams, hung over their shoulders. On their otherwise bare feet was a pair of simple, leather sandals.

From under the brim of their hat, Derw's distinctive tartan eyes gleamed in the morning sun, shining out over their long, aquiline nose. Their hands were tucked into the deep pockets of their trousers, pushing back the open edges of their coat until they billowed out behind them. Behind them was a large, black and white shire horse, hitched to an old-fashioned gypsy caravan.

"Go home, Cerys. Look after her place while I'm gone, yeah?"

The horse seemed to nod once, before turning away and trotting through the empty streets, the caravan trundling along behind it.

"Goodbye, I suppose."

A large, falcon-like bird, with the patterning of a robin, swooped down from above the mist, landing silently on Derw's shoulder. In its mouth was a small fish, which it offered to them. Derw took it carefully from the bird's beak, before tearing off the head with such technique that the skeleton came out with it. They then proceeded to eat it, and, after swallowing released a satisfied sigh.

"Thanks, Gwyds. I needed that." They patted Gwyds, (or Gwydion, as was his full name), gently on the head, before stretching their hands out behind their head. From the ship's deck, a man could be heard calling for the last boarders. With a tired huff, Derw began making their way up the small rope ladder that dangled from the Carrack's side. They flashed their application form at the white-haired man with the drinker's nose whom they assumed was the captain, who gave a nod of approval, before releasing Gwydion and wandering below deck to find a space where they could pitch the small tent they'd brought along for the trip.

Eventually, they found a nice, secluded spot in a corner, where they put up the tent, before leaning up against the wall, sighing at its flatness. Despite this, however, they smiled, clenching their fist in determination.

"So, this is where my journey begins, eh? Don't worry, Mother. For both our sakes, I'll make sure to become a Hunter, no matter how long it takes."

A few of the more curious applicants around them turned around to give them an evaluating look, before returning to their business.

"I'll save you. I swear it."

As they spoke those last words, the _Kaijinmaru_ raised its sails and set off towards the misty horizon. Little did Derw know what would await them on the other side.

 **xXxXx**

 **Welp, that's that one done, I suppose. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep up consistent updates for this one. No promises, but I am, at least, hopeful.**

 **Robin, in this instance, refers to the** ** _British_** **robin. Look it up, if you don't know what it looks like.**

 **Feel free to leave your thoughts in the reviews. I'd like to know what people think of my first foray into fanfiction following my period of hiatus, wherein I became very, very unmotivated, and, though it was never diagnosed, and as such I can say nothing with certainty, I'm fairly sure I had a mild case of depression. I won't claim for a moment that this is fact; only a suspicion. Again, the full details will be on my profile soon after I write this.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I have big plans for Derw.** ** _Very_** **big plans.**

 **Until next time, my friends.**

 **Yours faithfully,**

 **Helios J Mears.**


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